


This Too Shall Pass

by TheOwlsBride



Category: Kuroshitsuji
Genre: COVID, Drama, F/M, Fan - Freeform, Fanfiction, Hope, Kuroshitsuji - Freeform, Love, Pandemic - Freeform, Romance, Tribute, confort, original storie, short storie, storie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOwlsBride/pseuds/TheOwlsBride
Summary: It's 2020 and COVID time, who could have thought that a pandemic was around the corner. Shinigamis and doctors are working relentlessly, but what life is without love and hope? A humble tribute for everyone who is out there fighting for us and for everyone we have lost.
Relationships: Undertaker (Kuroshitsuji)/Original Character(s), Undertaker (Kuroshitsuji)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

This Too Shall pass  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Kuroshitsuji.  
Please read the end for notes.  
Chapter I  
It was exhausting. The number of extra hours that they have been working was uncalculated, and everyone was starting to feel the tiredness of the endless work. The London Dispatch was scattered all over the city going here and there relentlessly. For the first time, many of them would have preferred to stick at the office doing the, once tedious, paperwork. Yes, even the always flamboyant and thirsty of blood, Grell Sutcliff. Of course, the Chinese Dispatch had told the world that something terrible was coming back then at the end of the last year; still, nobody would have guessed, not even in their wildest dream, that a pandemic like this one was going to strike again. Most of them have been around during the Black Death, the Smallpox and the Spanish Flu, but they wouldn't think that an illness like this one was going to strike again.  
It all had started in November 2019. Others would say that it was in December in China, with the spread of a new disease transmitted by a bat carrying a virus known as Coronavirus. Generally, this virus causes symptoms similar to those of the flu, but the now called COVID -19 became a fatal disease for many people. In the blink of an eye, the COVID spread throughout the world infecting millions and leaving behind thousands of dead. Desolation and despair were everywhere, and the busy Shinigamis were all aware that this situation was not going to end soon. They were running around hospitals, homes, streets, waiting and checking every second their list to check who was on the list and who was not. The problem was that people in London, and of course all over the world, people keep dying for other causes: murders, suicides, old age and many other things that no human could even imagine, so right now they were absolutely complicated.  
William T. Spears was tired, desolated. The only thing that could ease his heavy inhuman heart was that at least at the moment, no demons were hanging around. He had not been able to perceive any contract, and that took a burden off him. However, the weight on his shoulders was unbearable: not even all the shinigamis in the UK seemed to have enough time to accomplish the task, and the list only grew and grew without an end.  
William was stepped over one of the many London roofs. He was watching with his green shinigami eyes the many windows of the St. Bartholomew's Hospital: death was inevitable, there was no chance of scaping it, not for the fragile humans that roam the world every day. He was there, just thinking when a flash of red pulled him out of his thought.  
"William Darling, you look awful tonight." Grell Sutcliff, the red ripper, spoke to him waving his manicured hands in front of his stoic secret lover face, "You really should do something about it, maybe we can go home and leave the rest to Ronald." He finished dreamingly.  
"Now it's not the time Sutcliff" William spoke firmly without looking the redhead.  
"Oh! Will, come on! these people are going to die anyway." the younger insisted "Besides it won't make any difference if we switch places, we can go somewhere more private."  
"I said not now, don't make me punish you, I don't have the time" William stated.  
"Oh my, is that a suggestion? William love, I'm more than willing." Grell teased, a grin spread all over his fair face, white teeth shining under the moonlight.  
"I said stop it" William finished punching the flamboyant ripper in the head a little bit harder than expected.  
"Oh Lord, you are really turning me on with all that bossy vibes." Grell shivered, receiving another punch. "Ok, ok, I get it! What do you want me to do?" finally giving up but not without a hint of tease in his voice.  
"We are lack of resources" William seriously began. "We are nowhere near filling all the positions necessary to complete the evening rosters, and the morning shift is about to begin" he sighed.  
"Well..." Grell began full of doubt and fear "We can always call him?" covering his head as he spoke, he looked William with hope, after all, he was getting tired too.  
"Don't even think about it, he is a deserter" William answered, annoyed.  
"Oh come on Will, don't be such a baby!" Grell stated knowingly "Besides, you know he is the best and you have to admit, he must be utterly bored in these days."  
"You have a point" William agreed stubbornly.  
"Great! So, when are you going to pay him a visit?" Grell questioned, unfolded his arms and releasing his breath.  
"Oh no, sweetheart." a devilish smile spread across William's face. "It's your idea, you are going to pay him a visit" And with that, the stoic shinigami disappeared with his death scythe ready to work.  
"Well done, Grelly, well done" The read head spoke to himself sighing "Where does he leave now? Oh yes! I must prepare myself, and a girl should always be at her best."  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Author Notes: As I said yesterday I write this story from the bottom of my heart, it´s full of respect for doctors, personal health and victims. It´s my humble tribute. With this, I do not want to disrespect anyone but quite the opposite. It is a story that tries to function as a defence mechanism and in turn bring hope, love and honour to all those who have given their lives for us and to those who have lost it in this time. If you like it please do not forget to comment, leave your reviews or leave me your messages where you already know. If you have criticism please be constructive. English is not my mother language if you find errors or miss them or help me edit.  
thank you and yours forever Owl´s


	2. The Doctor

Chapter II 

The nightshift was almost coming to an end. Gwenhwyfar looked at her watch, and still, there were at least three more hours to scape the hospital for a while. The shifts were no longer as they used to. Lately, since January, all the doctors available in London were working an incredible amount of extra hours to fulfil the medical needs in this war that they were battling against an invisible villain. The pandemic was at its peak, and there was nothing more than desolation, illness and death around. Even the smell in the air had changed in the last few months. It was the smell of despair, tiredness and loneliness.

Gwenhwyfar was breaking down. In all the years that she had been an intensive care physician, she had never imagined that things would turn out this way—whole days of work without rest in the service of others. Of course, she loved her job, and if she had to choose it, she would do it over and over again without hesitation. Still, disappointment and anguish were ahead of her. Just a few hours ago, she had lost not one, but five patients and those had only been a few of those in her care. Her co-workers weren't doing much better: they all had lost someone that night, and none had time even to mourn them, and that was simply heartbreaking. Gwenhwyfar, or Genna as she called herself, in all her years of study and practice, had learned that she did not have to get involved or grew fond of her patients. However, for her, that was a daunting task. She knew that many of her patients would die; it was inevitable. But, who was she to deny them the last goodbye, the final caress, or the last hug to the relatives? Even if it was dangerous to her emotional well-being, she couldn't help it. She had chosen to save lives but also to accompany them in their last breath, it was not her role, but from the depths of her being, she knew that she had no choice. And this was precisely what ailed her the most. It was not the endless hours of work, nor the personal protective equipment that she had to wear to protect herself from the virus that plagued the world, that she had to change after each patient with meticulous care to not contaminate anything around her. No. Her greatest sorrow was not being able to touch her patients, being unable to comfort them, see them die alone and without even their closest relatives.  
The virus was relentless, and what began as just a flu that very little was known about it ended up being one of the toughest pandemics in history. Genna had read and studied others; she knew the symptoms, the consequences, and the causes, she never believed that in her time, she would witness such devastation. She looked at her watch again, there were still two hours left before her shift ended, she would be worth a short break since the staff was not enough. She knew she would have to return to the cold corridors of the hospital as soon as possible. She could barely catch her breath back lost in the twenty hours she had been working non-stop. Many of her colleagues had already been victims of the infamous COVID-19. Many were in intensive care, and many others had also lost their lives as loyal health soldiers on the battlefront.  
It was too much, Genna sighed while walking through the corridors, she had signed up one more patient among hundreds: male, 25 years old, pneumonia, infected with COVID just three days ago, the respirator was inevitable. She had heard that in other places, ventilators for patients were insufficient, that doctors had to choose who to attend and who not. She was glad that this was not the case: at least in St. Barts, for the moment the technical resources were not insufficient. Genna stood in front of the stretcher. The young man was breathing only thanks to the artificial respirator; her colleagues had done a good job there. The boy was only a little younger than her and yet there he was, lying on a bed, mechanically assisted and in a coma. What would that guy's life be if all this wasn't happening? So young and so helpless at the same time. She read the medical chart and was glad that at least the young man was healthy and had no pre-existing diseases; hopefully, he would have a chance. She watched him a moment longer and walked to another stretcher. In front of her, her colleague watched with resignation.  
"She is not gonna make it, right?" Genna asked almost whispering.  
"Genna, is that you?" An older woman asked.  
"Yeah, under all this equipment, at least" Genna responded, pointing at her medical suit.  
"No, she is not going to make it; it's a matter of time." The other doctor said tiredly.  
"Hmm," Gwenheyfar nod, "Does she has anybody?" she finished.  
"It doesn't make any difference". The older stated.  
"It's just too much" Genna spoke almost silently.  
"Suppress your tears pet. There is nothing we can do, we have just to go on".  
"I guess... How do you do it anyway?" The young doctor asked.  
"Look Genna, you look awful, why don't you take a break? The shift is almost over; nobody is going anywhere nor notice your short absence." The older woman suggested while checking the low vitals of the lady on the bed. Genna nodded and slowly walked away from intensive care.  
After taking off all the protective equipment, Genna went up to the hospital terrace, the cold wind hit her cheeks briefly shooing her. Once she had made sure that nobody was there, she removed the chinstrap that she now wore almost 24 hours a day and absentmindedly stroked the marks that it had left on her face. She lit a cigarette and smiled wryly to herself: if any of her patients could saw her now. Curiously she walked to the edge of the terrace to stand on the railing that separated the roof from the total void. She took a drag on his cigarette and blew out the smoke slightly. It was too much, exhaustion and madness surrounded her, she looked down and closed her eyes for a moment. How easy it would be to jump.  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear~ You very much need it right now~." And a soft giggle got lost in the winter night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review


	3. The Reaper

Chapter III: The Reaper. 

London was no longer London. At least not the London he had come to love. Now it was a mix of modern buildings as tall as the sky itself. The old carriages over the years had been replaced by modern cars much faster and more compact at the same time. Now there were buses and even high-speed subway trains. Modernity was a new world and infinite possibilities. There was no misinterpretation, he had adapted well throughout all these years. He had learned to use every technological advance that came his way: cell phones, computers, the glorious internet, television. He even enjoyed from time to time going to the movies. He had learned that the latter was not significantly different from how people's cinematics records worked and that in a way filled him with pride. Even if he was a deserter, he had to accept that his people were far more intelligent and advanced than humans.   
He was used to modern life; it could be said that he even enjoyed it. He had come to learn some of the little pleasures that this era could bring him. He could sit for hours in some trendy little cafe, (where in order to pay a cup of tea, a regular person would have to consider selling a kidney on the black market) just to watch humans live their lives as fast as possible, coming and going without even pausing for a second to look to the side or behind, without even having the slightest consideration for what they did to the other or to the world in which they lived. These people lived oblivious of the finiteness and fragility of their bodies. They walked around proud of their cars, their clothes, their lovers and their promising careers, never stopping to look at or ask the needs of the others, never acknowledging that in the end death was inevitable and that at the last breath she equalled them all. Royalty, politicians, businessmen or beggars, they would all follow the same path and some of his former colleagues would be willing and able to judge them and take them without the possibility of the slightest protest. Oh these humans, they would never know what they got till is lost forever.   
He had lost everything once, even his sanity, and he was sure he would not do it again. Not now that he saw things as they were. His obsession with death had long been replaced by his obsession with life. That was what had driven him away from what had made him a legend so long ago, and what drives him crazy every time a little more. It was the burning desire to know what life was afterlife itself. How to prolong it, recover lost moments, and why not, create new ones. How to find once again what was lost and how to restore it as an exquisite work of art. Ironically, to reach his goal, he needed death: he was tied to it, and just today, in these times, the business of death was dying. Hilarious. Something as simple as passing, now it was complicated. In the good old days, when he had decided to turn his back on everything he knew, he had become London's best-known mortician. With his small business in Camden Town, he had had access to the most extraordinary elites of English society, and yet also made important contacts with simple commoners. As an undertaker, he had connections, the most varied and they all turned to him. Of course, he was not moved by money, he had never cared, he simply demanded in return a good joke that would make him laugh. After all, even death was not to be taken too seriously. He ran his business diligently getting to know more people than he ever imagined, one more curious and entertaining than the other. As an informant for the queen's watchdogs, he had managed to get into the elite, and thus each subject of study reached him without significant problems. He was happy, Oh what wouldn't he give for listening to the Earl's little voice once more asking for information? That butler was an incredible specimen, and he would have loved to dissect him. Oh lord, if only the little boy wouldn't be so stubborn about his stupid vengeance.   
Today the Parlour was not enough. Undertaker knew that if he wanted to continue his investigations even nearly 200 years later and with many incredible technological improvements, he had to be able to access another source of income. Modern times meant diversifying. Today, everyone's favourite mortician was no longer called to make arrangements for the afterlife. No. Now there were hundreds of other undertakers who did the same as him. Therefore, a place in the hospital morgue had been secured for some time. Who better than him, after years and years of seeing corpses to perform an autopsy and making himself time to take a look at his hidden agenda secretly? So yes, Undertaker was happy. Even if he missed the old times sometimes, he still ran his Parlour in the afternoons and was a forensic doc in the mornings. Just like a superhero with a secret identity, thinking about it, too many identities.   
Undertaker was sitting on the counter at his place, his long booted legs swinging lazily. The newspaper rested next to him, he had just finished reading the news, and they were hopeless, people in London were dying in droves, more like hundreds a day and that sort of hurt. Of course, he had witnessed other pandemics and knew very well what the consequences were. Not only did people die from the disease itself, but the devastation left, and the collateral damages were incalculable. It was as if the Horseman of the Apocalypse from the bible really put his feet on the slaughtered Earth. Undertaker knew that by now his fellow shinigamis would be desperate from overwork and felt sorry for them. How much would the lists of people to die have increased in recent months? He also felt sorry for the doctors who work non-stop to save lives. Two sides of the same coin: medical services and shinigamis, both barely surpassed by an infamous virus invisible to everyone's eyes, even his own. He regretted his work in the hospital too, it had been interrupted in these months, and he no longer had access to people's bodies for security measures. Obviously, the virus did not affect him in the least, but he had to keep up appearances. He sighed bored as his black nails drummed on the surface of the counter, he had no pending work, and he only had to wait. Sighed and wait. No more laugh, no more research, no more hilarious strange glances from his fellow doctors, nothing. Just desolation in every corner.   
His day couldn't get any worse, he burnt his bone-shaped cookies and was running out of tea. He would have to go to the store soon. He hated the store, he much preferred Lau's herbs, even the funny ones, those who made people laugh and relax when used in the right amount, and if not, still, he was not one to judge. So picking up the keys, he was ready to go out when something or somebody took him by surprise.   
"Heh heh, but if it's none other than the red shinigami ~ Tell me, sweety, Dear William gave you some free time?"  
"Undertaker, always a pleasure ..." Grell began nervously. Being in front of the legend of the shinigamis made him nervous "I have a favour to ask you."  
"A favour? Hmm ... How long has it been since the last one?" The silver-haired man chuckled, removing his bangs from his eyes. "You know what to do ~ give it to me first. Come on, you know what I want."  
"Undertaker ..." Grell pleaded "Now is not the time, besides you know I don't know how to do it."  
"My my, your face is priceless; you are still a nervous wreck." The Undertaker smiled almost fondly at the younger reaper. "What do you want?"  
"I need you ..." Undertaker raised an interested eyebrow, putting the keys back where he had found them, the tea could wait. Not every day a Shinigami would show up at the doors of a deserter asking for help. "I mean... WE need you."   
"You mean the London Despatch?..." Disbelief in his words, Grell nodded "Now, that's the joke of the century Grell, come on, I don't have time, I'm running out of tea". Grell Sutcliff rolled his eyes. He hadn't changed in years, Undertaker was just the same and he kind of like it. If it weren't for his relationship with William, Oh, the things he could do to the revel grim reaper in front of him.   
"Really, Undertaker? Is that what you do now? Take tea like an old lady?" the red-head spoke loudly, pointing at Undertaker's hidden scythe.  
"Well ... I'm quite old after all" Undertaker smiled and Grell pouted. "Ok, Ok. Why don't you take a seat on one of my special coffins and explain yourself?" Grell blew out the breath he didn't know he was holding and accepted the invitation. It was his idea after all, and he couldn't bring a no for an answer to his beloved William.

The chilly winter covered the city with a heavy mist. The sky threatened to snow at any moment. It didn't take long to convince him. Once young Grell Sutcliff had finished telling him his crazy plan and talked about how much the Despatch needed the help, he was ready to go. Plus, the red riper dared to say that the snob William T. Spears would have more than a headache knowing that he, the renegade shinigami, would accomplish the task better and faster, and nothing made him happier than bother poor Will. He was ready to wear the shinigami outfit one more time. He had to admit that he had missed it and that there was nothing like fieldwork. He was prepared to prove that no one could ever match him. Within just a few hours, he had been able to carry out the work of four shinigamis together and was just getting started. He caressed his lifelong companion with devotion, he had never gotten rid of his lover, and today they were walking together once more. His scythe was fantastic, and he loved her.  
Standing on the terrace of the hospital, he checked the list one more time. There were only two names left before the end of the shift when something caught his attention. She wasn't on the list moments ago. Her name had appeared suddenly, and she should not be there: Gwenhwyfar O'Doherty. He knew her, he had seen her from time to time in the corridors of the hospital. The young Irish doctor, lovely green eyes, cute freckles, she was so full of life. Working diligently every day to save others and yet here she was about to take the somersault that would make her, at best, one of his own kind. She wasn't ready to go, the world needed her.  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear~ You are very much need it right now~." and his soft chuckle got lost in the winter night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleaseeeee...... a coment????


	4. The Reaper and the Doctor

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear~ You are very much need it right now~." Undertaker chuckled walking to the young doctor, putting the list back in the pocket of his coat.  
"What the he..." Genna almost screamed in fear, losing her balance. That was all, she was going to fall, the curious step into the void would now be real, and her life would end, she would fall slowly and without pause until hitting the pavement. Well done, Genna. She closed her eyes.  
"Heh, heh, heh ~ hold on there, not so fast dear doctor" Undertaker laughed, grabbing Genna's arm firmly preventing the fatal fall. "Why don't we walk away from the edge and talk for a while." She locked her eyes with the man holding her tightly without being able to say anything. Those greenish eyes,  
they were strange, almost hypnotic, she had never seen eyes like this in anyone before, they did not seem real. She let herself be dragged to a safer place, the grip on her arm loosening a bit. Still, the man didn't let go.  
Genna took a deep breath in and out a few times to calm her breathing and her heartbeat. It had all happened in a rush: she had gone up the rooftop, lit a cigarette, and flirted with death by getting dangerously close to emptiness. She didn't know if she would jump or not, but for a moment the possibility had been real, and now a strange man with long silver hair, vibrant eyes, and a huge scar over his face, had saved her life.  
"You shouldn't be so curious about death, pet~" Undertaker spoke softly letting Genna's arm go. "You face it all the time~ You should know by now that is not that interesting." A mocking tone in his voice. Genna came to her senses; she snapped herself from the hypnotic moment walking a few steps back away from the black-clad figure. This was surreal and dangerous.  
"What the bloody he... Who the fuc... I almost.. You... You..." Genna stuttered taking from her pocket the chinstrap "You really shouldn't have touched me, you... you should wear a mask, stay away" Genna spoke, lifting her arms in front of her to prevent Undertaker's advances. He burst out laughing. This girl was funny, unintentionally funny. He crossed his arms, waiting for the young doctor to regain her composure, once he saw her calmer, he smiled calmly before speaking.  
"A mask? Like this one?"  
Genna couldn't believe what she was seeing. The stranger placed an old mask with pointed beaks on his face, like a terrible bird, even in the dark she knew, it was the ancient mask of the plague doctors.  
"You're a psychopath, I have to get out of here" She tried to run to the door, but it was impossible. He burst out laughing again as he held her by the tail of her medical gown.  
"Let me go" She cried out.  
"Shush, my dear~ you really gave me a first-rate laugh here~ heh, heh, heh." He stated releasing her robe and standing still. "Remove that devilish chinstrap from your pretty face, my dear doctor. We don't need it right now" His eyes glowed in all his glory and Genna couldn't do anything else but obey. There was something about this man, after the first shock, he seems to irradiate confidence, security, even peace. She breathed again, relaxing a bit.  
"Who are you?" She asked, looking at the man's face. He was kind of unique, something in him told her he was not normal, his white skin, his long silver hair falling loose, his long legs covered in leather high heel boots. He had scars, she had seen scars before, but non like these: a big one running through the face, another one on the neck, even in his pinky finger. What had happened to him? He wasn't a monster, on the contrary, he was quite handsome, And his eyes, oh those eyes, what was he?  
"My my..." He spoke once more folding his arms "If looks could kill I could drop dead right here and now... Or not." He chuckled "Or better said if looks could undress..." He let the phrase got lost in the air, Genna blushed furiously.  
"You are a psycho."  
"No, I am Undertaker" he answered knowingly.  
"Oh, I see..." Right, it was clear now. Of course, he was an undertaker; he must be working, maybe that explained the look. "So, what's your name?" she asked, "I didn't know that they were expecting you". She wasn't aware that the funerary were able to work this late and freely at the hospital.  
"Trust me, love, they know when I'm coming", he said with a dark smile "Just call me Undertaker, Gwenhwyfar."  
"Wait, how... How..." Genna started without words.  
"Easy now, I work here. At the morgue, I know the doctor staff" He answered dismissively taking a seat on the cold floor, stretching the legs forward and leaning against the wall.  
"The fog covers the moon, but dawn is near; come, have a seat." the mortician invited her patting a space next to him.  
Genna accepted walking over to him and sat incredible close. This guy was magnetic "Just call me Genna, I thought the morgue was close at this time." She said  
watching the horizon behind de London buildings.  
"Just working extra hours, helping old colleagues." She puffed some air, he felt silence; hopefully, no other reaper could be around. "Come on, you can smoke, it's not going to kill you right now, and I'm not judging". He spoke frankly. His voice was different.  
"Right..." Genna nodded; still, she didn't. Something held her back. "Listen... What you've seen... me, there, at the edge... I wasn't going to..."  
"Jump?" Undertaker interrupted "No, but you got extremely curious about it. You could get much, much closer, look down, lost balance, loose the little remained strength you got, and just like that let go." She was shocked. He had red her like an open book, just a moment ago maybe, she was looking for an excuse to finished all. "It would have been a suicide, no matter how many lame excuses you want to wield." His words were harsh, but there was amusement in his tone.  
"If you put it that way..." She left the phrase hanging. He laughed again. He was always laughing. She kind of like it, but gave her the chills at the same time. She shooked her head.  
"Now, can you tell what got into you, tonight?" He asked.  
"I don't know..." She started "I guess I feel tired, useless". she said, releasing some tears.  
"Tired yes, useless..." Undertaker began smiling, whipping away the tears on Genna's face with his thumb "I don't think so." She started to cry, desperately, letting go of all the frustration and tension of the last few months. She poured into each tear the fears, anguish, loneliness that the pandemic had left her, the remembrance of every deceased patient. She wasn't able to run home and sleep with her mother as she used to when she was a child in a stormy night. She couldn't see her family or friends. She didn't have anyone to hold her back and yet here she was, crying her eyes out, hugging a stranger who could be the sweetest or the creepiest man in the world and it didn't matter to her. She let herself be hugged until she calmed down, and he hugged her back. "Now now," The Undertaker broke the silence, gently pulling Genna out of his arms to look at her face. "If there is something that you are not, is useless." Genna looked into his eyes with a frown, and he laughed once more. "You work an almost inhuman amount of hours, save lives and try to accompany each of your patients in the best possible way. You care about them."  
"I guess" Genna answered, calmer.  
"You must learn that you cannot always win every battle" he spoke with such wisdom. "You will surely win this war, but for now, you must hold on to what you have and trust yourself."  
"It is difficult to do it in the middle of this reality." Genna whispered stubbornly. He chuckled.  
"Look dear, I know you can't see it now, but a new world is coming, and if you want to be part of it, you have to cope with it and leave your weaknesses to others. You chose this profession, you knew the risks." No one had had time to talk to her the way the Undertaker was doing it. His words were soft and sweet, but she knew that deep down he wanted to tell her 'fuck it all, take a deep breath and kick this virus in the ass'.  
"How do you know we will win?" Genna asked, looking for answers and hope in those bright eyes in which she seemed to lose herself hopelessly.  
"Oh, you will win ... Eventually. After so much time, having seen so much, experienced so much... I just know ~ heh heh heh."  
"So long? But how many ..." She was surprised, the man next to her seemed barely a few years older than her, and yet he radiated the energy and wisdom of a thousand lives lived.  
"Heh Heh ~ I just know" the mortician answered looking at the horizon "Oh look, it's dawn."  
"Yes ..." Genna replied sadly, she didn't want the moment to end. "I think I have to go back."  
"Me too ... It was a pleasure avoiding your death."  
"Ha, very funny" Genna snorted "Will we see each other again?"  
"I hope so" He answered smirking. Genna was already at the door, work does not wait, and now she had renewed strength.  
"And Genna, My dear doctor ..." She turned to see him once more "This too shall pass". She smiled confidently and walked into the hospital, while a laugh was lost in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end!!  
> I enjoyed writing the story, I hope to read what you think and how you feel about it. I don´t know if I´m ready to let this too go, so maybe in the future, they would meet again. 
> 
> Again It was a pleasure! Now I want to read and listen to you.


End file.
